


Mix It Up

by EntreNous



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Distrust, Jealousy, M/M, Secret Relationship, mild biphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: Whenever Zach tries to focus on the good stuff and remember this is what Chris wants, he can't ignore the whisper inside his mind that tells him,it's what he wants for now.





	Mix It Up

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I meant to write straight up porn for this year's Pinto De Mayo celebration (y'all, it would have been so, so porny). But then I saw [a gifset of Chris Pine looking close to tears](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com/post/159683285481/whump-they-it-is-chris-pine-being-a-sad-little), and my fate was sealed! I really hope you secretly wanted angst, Pinto fandom, because it's what you're getting. <3

Zach absolutely does not go to the same bar as Chris and Bethany deliberately. 

How could he, when the two of them are still supposed to be having a fashionably late dinner at Emerson's (based on when Zach glanced at his phone last -- two drinks ago, or maybe it's been three)? He can picture them now, lingering at a cozy table for two in the corner, leaning in over the barely-touched plates, Bethany's fashionable cocktail ring sparkling in the candlelight as Chris reaches across to take her hand. 

Okay, so what if Zach's never been inside that particular trendy spot, and can't say for sure how they might look? He's had plenty of time to set the scene in his head since he left Chris's house. No doubt the place is like any well-known celebrity hangout, featuring one of those tables not-too-obviously close to a window but nonetheless still in the sightline of paps -- just in case there are any who might have been tipped off, stationed across the street with their long range camera lenses. 

Still, they've definitely gone to Emerson's and nowhere else. Zach knows because Chris repeated the name three times when his publicist called to prep him. 

"Emerson's, I promise. Right. Karen, look -- I've got it. Emersons's. I'll be there." Chris had raked his fingers through his hair as he listened. When he turned and caught Zach's eye, he had flashed him a tight smile. 

Zach had nearly smiled back. After all, he could commiserate. Yeah, he hadn't done that kind of thing for a long time, but he remembered how it went.

Then Chris had rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, okay, _we'll_ be at Emerson's." And Zach had set aside the script he had been pretending to study and left the room.

Well, wherever the fuck they're supposed to be at the moment, this much is clear: that's Chris and Bethany arriving via the side door and heading to the bar. Chris is ushering her with a gallant gesture and Bethany smiles at him as she holds onto her tiny purse with one hand and sweeps a stray strand of her wavy blond hair back with the other. 

As they pass by, a few people in their path do that whole _Oh no, I'm definitely not snapping a photo, just checking my phone at kind of a weird angle?_ thing.

Zach doesn't need a photo. He's got a couple of similar ones stowed on his laptop, saved in a folder marked _vet records 00s_. Really, he doesn't even need to look. 

He looks anyway.

* * *

Whenever Zach flies out to L.A., he always lets Chris talk him into visiting one of the greasy taco places Chris loves. And Chris always agrees they should catch a revival film at The Egyptian Theatre.

Lately they've got a new tradition when Zach's in town. After photos of them invariably surface (maybe laughing at each other's jokes at a party or perhaps standing a little too close while they're on line waiting for coffee), Chris's publicist calls to yell at him for not telling her about the visit. Then, while Chris pinches the bridge of his nose and Zach hovers nearby and acts like he's texting someone, she rails about image and presentation until Chris agrees to a staged date with some actress or model who could use a little press of her own.

This visit someone had caught Zach lighting Chris's cigarette outside a club. Up to that point in the night they had taken all kinds of precautions: they had gone with a bunch of people, deliberately sat next to other friends when they were inside, stayed away from each other on the dance floor. But in the shot of them on the sidewalk, Chris had been leaning toward Zach, his eyes closed, cupping one hand around the flame. And Zach had been watching him intently, his gaze aimed straight at Chris's mouth. 

So now here they are again.

* * *

"She says she can spin us hanging out when you're in town, but that, you know. I've got to mix it up," Chris had said.

To Zach it had always seemed ridiculous to get worked up about a few images floating around. Plenty of pictures already exist of the two of them, from press tours, from random events. But as Chris had haltingly explained, anyone's speculations based on those photos now had a chance of hitting on the truth. 

Zach had had to force himself not to tighten his arms around Chris where they had lain sprawled on one of the double loungers on the patio. He had already felt Chris tensing, and he hadn't wanted to ratchet up the stress levels. 

"Mix it up," Zach had repeated slowly. "It sounds like the name of a crappy kid's show from the seventies."

Chris had snorted and rubbed his face into Zach's chest. "You mean the ones with freaky life-sized puppets?"

"And unexplained musical numbers." Zach had pressed his fingertips lightly on Chris's shoulder blades, marking their boundaries. "So that would entail -- what, exactly?"

"It wouldn't be a big deal. Going out with some girls, maybe to cafes or walking in Santa Monica. Just being seen on a date for a night or two during the times you're visiting."

When Zach had stayed quiet, Chris hastened to add, "Not for real, obviously. It would all be arranged. But Karen says it's a good idea, if I'm going to be seen with you more --"

"To mix it up," Zach had supplied. 

It had seemed such a casual phrase for what it meant: Chris essentially dating women while he's with Zach. Immediately a bunch of moments that Zach hadn't even realized he'd been cataloguing flooded his mind: Chris across the room at an after-party listening to a petite brunette with extraordinarily high heels; Chris pausing for the cameras at an event to slide his arm around the waist of an stunning actress Zach knows is single; Chris at an outdoor café with Zach, head turning during a pause in the conversation, watching two women sauntering down the sidewalk. 

Until right that moment Zach hadn't given much thought to how it all had set his teeth on edge. 

Their families and their close friends know Zach and Chris are trying something. Even friends of friends have started to drop hints that they're aware. Anyone else, though, might see Chris smiling at a pretty woman and start to weave together all sorts of potential happily-ever-afters. So all that's really happening right now is that people see inspiration for their own tales of Chris's love life, and Chris gets a little breathing room. At least, that's the narrative Zach keeps trying to sell himself. But his stomach clenches whenever he remembers no one knows how this story will really end.

"It wouldn't be forever," Chris had said in the lull. His words came out muffled against Zach's arm.

"Yeah," Zach had said. His throat had tightened as Chris relaxed discernibly in his arms. "Yeah, okay."

It's not that Zach doesn't believe Chris seriously wants to make it work. Chris's rapidly up-ticking frequent flier miles to NYC, the closets he's cleared out for Zach unbidden, the way he mumbles things like, "better when you're here," against Zach's chest when they're turning in for the night -- all of it tells him that this is what Chris wants. Yet Zach can't stop thinking about those times they stall and bicker and miss the better part of the morning because they can't agree whether they should take a chance walking Chris's dog together. He can't help noticing when Chris makes sure Zach will join him at his folks' place for Sunday dinner, but also mentions vague plans that lead them to take separate cars, "just in case."

"It wouldn't be forever," Chris had said. 

Whenever Zach tries to focus on the good stuff and remember this is what Chris wants, he can't ignore the whisper inside his mind that tells him, _it's what he wants for now_.

* * *

When Zach heads out for early morning runs on his own (because getting photographed exercising together means trading away another time they can be near each other in public), he focuses on breathing to clear his head. That way he won't think about how he wouldn't make these concessions for anyone else. And when he meets friends for brunch alone (and carefully keeps his face blank when Chris stresses out over whether he could maybe go next time), he says fuck it and has a couple of extra Bellinis. Yeah, it screws with his latest wellness regimen, but if he's buzzed he doesn't dwell on how he and Chris might never reach the stage where he can ask for more. 

Zach wouldn't stand for any of this with any other guy. But this is all so new with Chris, or at least it feels that way. Sure, they had messed around on press tours through the years and occasionally hooked up in between when neither of them was with anyone else. They had even shared space for stretches of time, both of them on alert never to press too hard about whether crashing with each other was maybe sort of like living together.

What's truly new is how they're talking it through this time, taking a real chance together. They even had decided to wait at first, to not get involved right on the heels of Zach's big breakup last year. And now, despite the long distance thing, it's a "relationship with a capital R," as Chris had said with relish after they made things official. 

That day they had driven along the PCH in one of the sleek vintage cars that Chris loves way too much, tooling along like they're a regular couple day-tripping. After a while they had pulled over to walk along the beach and dig their toes into the sand. When Zach had reached out and caught Chris's pinkie, curling his first two fingers around it, Chris had ducked his head, smiling in that shy way he has when he doesn't think anyone is watching. 

The west coast sunshine and the messy sandwiches they had shared somewhere outside of Malibu and the lazy drive home with their hands entwined on Chris's thigh -- all of it had made Zach's heart feel so full. It hadn't even bothered him much the next day when they had made sure to keep a foot and a half plus between them while they strolled around and browsed in used bookstores. 

Yanking Chris close to him as soon as they get back to the house, mouthing down Chris's trembling thighs at night -- it all makes up for not touching until they're behind closed doors. 

Doesn't it?

* * *

"You could catch up with Joe, go get a beer somewhere," Chris had suggested when he paused at the door earlier that night.

Zach had frowned at his phone so he wouldn't narrow his eyes at the shirt Chris had chosen, the taupe one with the subtle blue stripe. The last time Chris had worn it, Zach had run his palms up and down the soft linen fabric slowly, listening to Chris's breaths quicken before he had thumbed open the buttons one by one. "Nah, I'm seeing him Tuesday."

"Oh. That's great. I know, if you wanted to get a drink, you could call --"

"I can make my own plans." 

When only silence answered him, Zach had glanced up to see Chris in the doorway, already half outside, gripping the jamb like it was keeping him upright. Instead of snapping back, though, Chris had nodded quickly. "Of course." The words had been so courteous, so his-mom-raised-him-right, that a sour taste rose in Zach's throat.

After the door had closed and the soft crunch of the driveway gravel faded away, though, Zach had decided he could use a drink after all.

* * *

Just because Zach ends up in a bar in the same part of town as Chris's fake date doesn't mean he's snooping.

He's hardly acting like some low-rent detective, trailing Chris to uncover his treachery. After all, it's not like he usually gets access to the trail. Even if he's upped the number of days he logs on the west coast because of Chris, he's not in SoCal most of the time. 

Besides, so what if Zach is in the neighborhood? He can't help it if there aren't many cool areas in L.A. Seriously, he would have been hard pressed not to end up in the same vicinity as Emerson's. 

Not mention that if he was honestly hoping to happen upon Chris and Bethany, there's no reason to trust they would turn up at this particular joint. Just because Chris had mentioned the bar a time or two, said Zach might like some of the specialty cocktails there -- that was no guarantee.

The funny part is, when they actually do show up -- Chris's hand on the small of Bethany's back, her head tilted as she listens to whatever he's saying -- Zach almost doesn't spot them. 

It's partly because he stopped checking out the entrances regularly after the first few rounds. But it's also that Zach has gotten preoccupied chatting with the guy who's perched next to him on the couch he's commandeered.

The guy had arrived with a slew of friends, all of them similarly young and gorgeous and self-affected, rapidly downing cocktails and exclaiming as they talked over each other. Zach had only noticed the gaggle of them because they'd been stationed at a tiny table close to the bar's main door. 

By the time he glanced over the third or fourth time, though, Zach had realized one of them was waiting to catch his eye. So he'd held his gaze while he swallowed the last of his drink, and kept right on watching as the guy hesitated for a second before he wove between tables and around bodies to join him.

At the point when Chris arrives, they've been talking for going on forty minutes. Zach keeps forgetting his name, maybe because he's gotten his drink refreshed, or maybe because he's been scanning the crowd during most of their conversation. But he's keeping track of the important parts: long legs, sharp cheekbones, and a smile so beguiling that he could make some serious cash modeling. 

"No, no; I love teaching elementary school way too much to give it up for something like that," he protests when Zach says as much. His pleased laugh tells Zach it's probably not even that rehearsed of a line. 

"You could if you wanted to give it a shot, though." It turns out Zach can catch a better glimpse of Chris pulling out Bethany's bar stool if he leans in, so he sways closer. He honestly doesn't spare much thought about whether he seems distracted to the guy he's talking with; everyone's used to a certain lack of focus out here, after all. 

Someone new in town probably wouldn't figure out the regional flakiness based on how Chris and Bethany are behaving, though. When Chris says something to her, gesticulating rapidly the way he often does, she teasingly catches his hand. Chris actually looks startled for a split second, and Zach shifts where he sits, his muscles repositioning the way they do when he's going to get to his feet. But then he notices they've threaded their fingers together, and he watches them laugh like they're the only two people in the room.

"You've totally got the right vibe for it," Zach continues, shifting his gaze away from Chris and back to his new friend's smiling mouth. 

"Yeah, but that's not what I'm looking for, you know?" Ben -- is his name Ben? -- Zach's pretty sure it is, now that he's paying attention -- bites his lower lip before he combs his sandy brown hair out of his eyes. 

He's so earnest and adorable and fuckable, and whenever Zach speaks, he watches with keen green eyes, his fingertips absently brushing against his throat.

"Yeah?" Zach transfers his drink to his other hand and puts it down so he can extend his arm across the back of the couch. "So what are you looking for?"

Ben shrugs and lifts his hand in a vague motion before he lets it fall on Zach's thigh. "I guess...the same kind of thing everyone else is looking for, you know?" His cheeks turn pink, but he leaves his hand where it is. 

Zach nods slowly, as though Ben's said something terribly profound. Whatever clichéd words he's just uttered aren't really the point. What matters right now is Zach's arm lies inches away from Ben's shoulders, and Ben is doing nothing to shy away. What counts is how in this place where people come not only to drink and laugh but to keep a lookout on each other, Ben wants Zach closer, no matter who sees. 

It feeds the voice in the back of Zach's head urging him, _hey, go ahead; why not?_ Nothing serious, just a little contact that other people might happen to view. It wouldn't mean anything. He's heard Chris reassure him that often enough. 

But he could also retreat and be out the door in minutes, less if he doesn't bother to spin an excuse explaining why. The traffic will be lighter now, and he can open the moonroof and clear his head. When he gets back, Wednesday will raise her little muzzle from where it's resting between her paws on the floor and scamper back and forth, absolutely delighted that he's returned. 

Later Chris will come home, and he'll kiss Zach absently on the way to change into a t-shirt and trade his shoes for flip-flops. When he wanders back into the living room, he'll crawl in between Zach and the back of the couch despite Zach's half-hearted protests. He'll probably huff as he makes himself comfortable, grousing about how he's not into being out so late anymore. 

Afterward, Zach will hum and press his lips to Chris's shoulder and try to pretend he's not wondering if the perfume he smells on Chris means anything at all.

He can't resist looking over to the bar again. 

It's just in time for Bethany to make a show of entwining her hands around Chris's neck. Someone standing close to them helpfully drifts away, and in the gap Zach can see Chris resting his hands on her hips. From this angle they look as though they could start a strange, slow dance, turning their pose into a lift that winds down into an embrace. 

For a moment Zach stares, forgetting to look away, forgetting to look back at Ben. His chest aches, a dull pang that seizes and echoes to cue him that there's something he ought to feel. But he's too numb to tell exactly what that is, too dazed and disoriented from the alcohol and the pulsing music and the weeks and weeks of not letting himself wonder when Chris will realize the pretense and hassle of covering up their supposed relationship with a capital R is just not fucking worth it.

When Zach at last tears his gaze away, Ben's lips have parted. "Hey," he says softly. He looks sympathetic and a little confused. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Zach says, his voice thick and rough. "Yeah, okay."

This time he doesn't take his eyes off Ben as he lets his legs spread further. And when Ben's hand slips down an inch, Zach doesn't adjust to counter. 

He doesn't care anymore that there was probably an entire team that engineered tonight's outing for Chris and Bethany. However staged it was in the planning, however much they started out acting, it sure as hell looks real to Zach. Why should he trust that the reality is any different when they're all people who lie for a living?

Ben hums when Zach presses him back against the couch and they kiss, parts his lips and makes a low, sweet sound when Zach tangles fingers in his hair. He's barely moved his hand on Zach's inner thigh, but the way they've shifted, his fingers sweep close enough to Zach's hard on that Zach can feel their heat. 

Suddenly a weight lands on Zach's shoulder.

It takes him a couple of seconds to pull away and realize that it's Chris's hand, Chris standing there silently waiting for Zach to acknowledge him.

"Um, did you want something, or --?" Ben asks.

Chris only glances at Ben before he zeroes back in on Zach. "Can I talk to you?" He's holding what looks like a glass of water in his right hand, and even in the dim lighting Zach can see his knuckles have gone white. 

Zach's stomach drops. Then something in him rallies and he deliberately cocks his head to the side. "Yeah, sure. I mean, we're talking right now, right?" 

"Are you fucking serious?" Chris asks loudly. A few people turn to look.

Ben laughs nervously. "Maybe I should --" 

"Right, whatever," Zach says. His eyes are locked on Chris now, Chris who looks like he's ready to blow his fucking top and ready to hurl whatever's in his glass at Zach's face.

The couch cushion shifts as Ben awkwardly gets to his feet. Zach doesn't watch him go. 

"I didn't know you were going out tonight," Chris says. It's a wonder he can get the words out through his gritted teeth. 

"It's not a big deal. People go out, you know?" Zach answers. He pointedly casts his eyes back in Bethany's direction. But it turns out there's no one there to narrow his eyes at. Her spot at the bar is vacant.

Chris opens his mouth. Zach leans forward, ready for it even if his head swims a little.

But when Chris glances around he must realize people are staring. His cheeks flush deep red. "Fuck." He says it so quietly that Zach wouldn't catch it if he wasn't watching Chris's lips.

Then Chris does a move Zach's only ever seen performed onscreen: he jerks his head toward the main door before he strides off.

* * *

Zach nearly reaches the exit when he pulls up short and lets out a dry, raspy laugh. A server passing with a tray full of empty glassware held above her head checks herself and swerves around him, obviously not trusting his movements.

If he was smart, he'd have insisted they stay exactly where they are. Of course Chris doesn't want to hash this out where people can see. 

When he gets outside he makes himself slow down. He can only imagine the fit Chris's publicist would have if a coy blind item surfaces about them storming out after each other. So he ambles past the doormen and clusters of people chattering and smoking and shivering in the rapidly cooling night, pretending to check his phone and taking his time to wander toward the parking lot.

Usually when they clash around other people, Chris takes off to wait for Zach, lingering somewhere half-hidden with his jaw clenched. So really, the parking lot is his best bet to find Chris, not only for the quiet but for ready access to a quick exit. 

As Zach strolls closer, true to form he sees Chris standing by his car. Apparently he took the four-seater tonight but the top is up, maybe as a tease so anyone spotting him with Bethany can't get a blatantly easy snapshot. Right now he's shadowed, head bowed, and he looks like he's ready to bolt. 

So it's a shock when Zach reaches him and Chris spins around, his face screwed up with fury, and hisses, "The fuck was that?"

Zach's so taken aback that he reflexively checks to see if anyone's overheard before he tries to reply. There's no one in their immediate area, but the clusters of people outside the bar and spilling over from other venues aren't exactly far away.

Apparently Chris isn't getting answers fast enough, though, because he bursts out, "In there, with that -- who the hell was that?"

That sour sensation returns, rising in Zach's throat. "It's not -- I just met him," he manages to say. 

"Jesus Christ," Chris mumbles. "That doesn't exactly answer my question."

Obviously they've reached the lowered voices portion of the night, when Chris starts sentences like "I can't believe you..." or "Why would you just..." before trailing off and refusing to say more until they're someplace private. 

But Zach's too worked up to put things on hold. So he widens his stance, planting himself solidly before he asks, "Hey, but you haven't told me yet -- how did your date with Bethany go? Because that's _my_ question, in case you were wondering." 

He's waiting for Chris to answer in strained, hushed tones, to insist they move away from the open. Instead Chris shouts, "Are you seriously -- this is fucking unbelievable!"

Zach can feel his lip curl. "Is it, though?" 

At first Chris shakes his head slowly. Then he snarls all of his fingers in his hair at once and tugs like he's ready to tear his head off. 

Zach nearly says, "Oh, come on!" It's just so ridiculously theatrical. 

But when he sees the look on Chris's face -- his mouth turned down, his eyes frantic -- Zach's heart seizes. This is all too real.

"Look, let's get out of here," Zach says in low, placating tones. He moves forward with his hands raised, not only in surrender but to block any view the people on the sidewalk might have of Chris. 

"I just --" Chris squeezes one last time and then releases his shaking hands from his head. "We talked it through, and you said you were okay with it!"

A flash goes off at the same time a high-pitched question floats over: "Hey, isn't that --?"

"Chris," Zach says urgently. "Can you drive? Because I probably drank too much, and we should definitely get in the car right now."

Chris stands still for a second. When he unlocks the car on the driver's side only, Zach inhales sharply. It definitely wouldn't be the first time they've taken separate cars because they're keeping things quiet. But this doesn't feel anything like the usual hyper discretion at work.

How easy would it be for Chris to drive away and leave Zach behind for good? 

Zach almost doesn't hear the second click, the rest of the car unlocking, over his pounding heart.

He fumbles the door on his side, nearly tripping over himself as he gets in. As soon as he slams it shut in his hurry, he freezes. Usually Chris will say, "Aw, geez!" and dress him down ("she's an antique, Zach; a classic! You've got to treat her with tenderness!"). But Chris says nothing; he simply starts the engine and begins to maneuver their way out.

Zach looks down as the car glides onto the street. He doesn't want to see anyone watching them leave or catch his own reflection in the side mirror. He focuses on breathing steadily, in and out, in and out.

* * *

For a time they drive in silence, taking streets Zach doesn't recognize. 

Zach's clenching his jaw so hard it's aching. He can't stop remembering how anguished Chris had looked. But there's a voice in his head that says, _hey, you're not the only one who fucked up here_ , and he's not sober enough to know if he should listen.

At last they come to a stop at the side of a road. The engine dies and Chris turns to Zach, his face tense. 

"I know I screwed up," Zach says harshly. "I screwed up, I'm an asshole, and I shouldn't have done it. But you -- I can't take this, okay?"

"You said," Chris starts out, his voice thick. 

"I know I said it was okay when you asked! But that wasn't license to keep it up for months!" When Chris only stares at him, Zach grips the seat to keep himself steady. "Listen, it's one thing not to be out together. I can wait for you to...to work through that." He forces himself to stop because he's not quite sure what he's going to say next. 

Outside one car goes by, then another. Chris turns his head toward the sound.

"But you can't expect me to keep putting up with this publicity fuckery!" So much for trying to stay in control, but who can blame him if he can't keep it together when he's buzzing with adrenaline and alcohol and Chris won't look him in the goddamn eye?

Chris's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He's still watching the road like he's expecting something else to come along. 

"God, would you look at me?" Zach bursts out. "Is it even about the publicity anymore?"

Chris shifts back slightly, casting his gaze down. "You know it's all arranged. Zach, you know that. I tried to keep you in the loop at every step so you'd know what was up. I haven't hidden a single thing from you."

"Are you sure? The way you looked at her tonight, Chris -- the way you touched her!"

At that Chris's head snaps up. "You know what? You've got a lot of fucking nerve. You couldn't bring this up earlier? Like, I don't know, over breakfast this morning or when we were figuring out who's visiting who next month? You had to plan for me to catch you making out with a random guy to drive the point home?"

"I didn't plan it," Zach mutters. "I knew you might show up there, but I didn't know exactly where you were going after dinner."

"Wow, that's a million times better! Some stranger in a bar's about to feel you up while you've got your tongue in his mouth and it's cool because it's totally spontaneous!"

For a few minutes neither of them says a thing. Zach almost wishes another car would drive by to break the uneasy stillness.

"I just..." Chris's hand moves in a half-hearted arc toward Zach before he pulls it back, places it on the wheel. "If you're with me, I need you to be with me."

"I haven't," Zach tries. He has to stop and clear his throat. "I haven't been messing around on you." Now that they're alone, away from the bar and the music and the sight of Chris being pulled into someone else's orbit, the thought of it turns Zach's stomach. He closes his eyes, screws them shut until the wave of nausea abates. "This -- I'm sorry, I truly am. I was angry and I was stupid, but I would never -- I won't do it again." 

Chris gives him a curt nod in acknowledgement. 

Zach nearly bites his tongue. Fuck knows nothing he's done or said tonight has done him any good. But in the end, he just can't. "That works both ways, right? Can't I ask the same of you? To be with me, just me?" 

"You don't have to ask. None of that -- with them -- has been real."

"Even if it doesn't look that way to everyone else," Zach says quietly. He looks down and nods as he folds his hands together on his lap. "Okay. Okay."

He'll have to find a way to distract himself from worrying and wondering. He'll stop doing surreptitious searches on his phone when Chris isn't around. He'll quit collecting images on his laptop of Chris looking intently at his "dates." Above all, he'll forbid himself from trying to find out in person if the way Chris smiles at those women is the same as the way he smiles at Zach.

It's not bullshit to say Chris is one of Zach's favorite actors. The myriad complicated things he can express so subtly, the small telling gestures, the expressions that speak volumes: Zach knows Chris can sell an experience, can make anyone watching believe that's his reality. Sure, it hurts Zach to see Chris with Bethany, with a model about to drop an album, with a young actress who needs exposure, with whoever the fuck Karen lines up next. He'll try not to look. He'll try to remember it isn't real. 

"So I guess we should go back to your place --" Zach begins to say at the same time that Chris says, "I can't do this anymore."

Zach's hands clench together hard. "What?" 

"I just can't -- I thought I could handle it. But it's too much." He turns to Zach with a little shake of his head.

He can feel the blood drain from his face. "Chris, don't -- give me another chance." 

"No, I mean --" Chris covers his lips with his hand. It looks like he's summoning strength to say the next part, to deliver the blow that will end everything. But then his eyes meet Zach's, and they're swimming with tears. "I can't handle faking it anymore with these fucking dates. It's hurting you. It's killing me. I don't want people to think there's anyone for me but you."

"Baby," Zach says helplessly.

Chris puts both hands to his mouth and Zach realizes he's trying to hold back sobs. 

"That's it," Zach says, swatting at his lock and opening his side before he leans across Chris to unlock his door. "Come on." 

Chris hugs his arms to his torso and looks around at the quiet roadside. "What -- where?"

"Let's get in the back," Zach explains. He leans over again so he can kiss away a tear from Chris's cheek. "So I can hold you, okay?"

It's awkward when they climb out and relocate to the backseat, both of them breathing hard, awkward when Chris's face keeps crumpling as Zach tries to kiss him softly, awkward when Zach insistently pulls Chris closer through Chris's shaking because he can't imagine letting go.

But they get it sorted out in the end, Chris's forehead on Zach's shoulder as he tries to catch his breath, Zach stroking his hands firm and steady down Chris's back, holding them both together.

"I'll make sure it stops," Chris says. He presses his face against Zach's neck and takes a deep breath. "All the arranged stuff." 

"Thank you," Zach whispers. There's so much he wants to say about the enormity of what that promise means to him, the weight it lifts from his shoulders, the future it gives them. But he can only kiss Chris's forehead and hold him close as he whispers, "Thank you," again.

"You know, I'm still kind of pissed off at you," Chris murmurs after some time has passed.

"That's...more than fair." It's probably way more than he deserves. "I've been so mixed up, and scared out of my mind to bring all of this up -- I didn't want --" He's too overcome to say any of it properly so he just squeezes Chris fiercely and huffs in giddy relief when Chris lets out a quiet "oof!"

"You know, you're not the only one who's scared," Chris says softly. He draws back, but he stays in Zach's embrace.

"Yeah, I get that." Zach searches Chris's solemn face, and smiles a little. "If it helps, we can be scared together."

Chris slides a hand up Zach's chest and rests it over Zach's heart. "It helps," he murmurs before he leans in to brush their lips together again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. <3 If you want, come look me up [on tumblr](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com/).


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